


Artemis Fowl: The MI6 Continuum

by Acehardy3, Seagreen27



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artemis Fowl is Q, Banter, Butler is B, Butler trains 00 agents, Crack, Gen, Humor, James Bond / Artemis Fowl Novels Cross Over, James Bond finds out about the People, Q is Artemis Fowl, Troll attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acehardy3/pseuds/Acehardy3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seagreen27/pseuds/Seagreen27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond & Artemis Fowl Crossover</p>
<p>What if Artemis Fowl grew up and with his newly acquired conscience decided to do something good for Queen and Country? What if he was recruited by MI6 to become the youngest long standing Quartermaster ever, a genius with technology, and a knack for making weapons? </p>
<p>What if a certain 00 agent became a bit too nosy in his Quartermasters past, and then got in trouble on a routine mission. A mission that went so far South (or North really, they were in Russia after all), that only Fairy magic could save it?</p>
<p>Will Artemis Fowl be able to tell the curious 007 the truth about his past? Would Bond believe Q?</p>
<p>With cameos from all of your favourite Artemis Fowl characters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artemis Fowl: The MI6 Continuum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acehardy3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acehardy3/gifts).



> So, this story came out of a conversation with my sister that went like this:  
> Me: "Does Q have a real name in canon? I keep seeing him referred to as Artemis, but is that his real name?"  
> Sis: "Name not defined in canon. Artemis is a fan favourite though..."  
> Me: "Maybe there are a lot of Artemis Fowl fans out there writing 00Q Fanfiction. Wait... WHAT IF Q IS THE GROWN UP ARTEMIS FOWL!!"
> 
> And so the story began...
> 
> A couple of notes - I love the Artemis Fowl books and read the first three so many times when I was growing up. Because these are the books I am most familiar with, and I was writing quickly mostly from memory, I disregard anything that happened in canon after this point, and this is essentially a canon divergence from the end of book 3.
> 
> Neither the James Bond nor Artemis Fowl series' belong to me. I do take a direct quote from Artemis Fowl at the very end. All other words are mine.

007 threw a thick file down onto the table. Q gazed at it for a long second, and then looked back up at James Bond, face carefully blank.

“So, I found your file.” Bond said. “Perhaps not as quickly as you found mine, but I had to go to the bottom of a filing cabinet in the furthest HR storage room. Almost as if someone had tried as hard as they could to hide the file without going to the stage of destroying it.”

A faint flush fluttered across Q’s cheeks. He thought he had hidden it well enough, out of alphabetical order and in the bottom of a filing cabinet with the files of agents who retired in the 70’s. He had not been expecting anyone to want it enough to search for it, particularly not a bull-headed 00 agent.

“That’s quite a rap sheet you’ve got there. Money laundering, weapons smuggling, hacking into every security system on earth. I was not particularly surprised by any of that. What did surprise me were the references to another file that even I could not find anywhere. What was ‘Operation Time Stop’? I’m sure you are enough of a nerd to be a Dr Who fan, but there is no way to make me believe that the Doctor is real. ‘Operation Battery Retrieval’ sounds almost as ridiculous.”

Q folded his arms and his mouth narrowed to a thin line. There were secrets that he had held for a decade and a half that some cocky agent was not going to get out of him now. Not even the ever smooth talking James Bond.

“I was also surprised to read you hail from Ireland. You don’t have an accent.” Bond looked at Q expectantly, and then sighed in exasperation when his quartermaster just glared through his glasses.

“You know that I will get it out of you eventually, _Artemis_. Or I’ll find out another way, but I will find out.” Bond gave Q a final glare, and then swept imperiously out of the room. Q let out the breath he had been holding, picked up the file that Bond had left on the table, then followed him out of the room.

 

***

“I don’t know why I let you drag me to these places, the tea is truly awful.”

Artemis said as he sipped at a cup of Starbucks Earl Grey tea. The older man Artemis was with smiled indulgently. “It’s hard enough to get you out of the office, without also trying to take you some where further away.” They were sat in a table in the corner, old habits meaning that Artemis was sitting with his back to the wall, and the other man had a clear view of the whole room, including the two exit points.

“True. I had an interesting meeting with Bond yesterday.”

“What did my prodigy want with you now?”

“He found my file. Fortunately only the human half, but he is now determined to find out the full story.”

“You know you can’t tell him, don’t you, Artemis.”

“I know Butler, I know. But he is a Double 0. They are notoriously difficult to keep things from if they become determined to know about it. That is what we employ them for after all.”

The main door opened, and Butler’s eyes automatically swiveled in that direction.

“Talk of the devil…” Artemis looked. Bond had just walked through the door looking as suave as ever in a long black coat and a light blue scarf. He scanned the room, appearing to be looking for someone, but Artemis knew an agent sweep when he saw one. Bond’s eyes met Artemis’, and a feral grin appeared on 007’s face. He joined the queue and got his coffee, while Artemis considered sneaking off while he still had the chance to avoid being grilled.

“How did 004 get on with their first mission?” Butler asked, trying to change the subject and bring Artemis’ attention back.

“Not great, I told her and told her not to lose her weapon, but she still came home without any of the tech she went out there with. I’m starting to think you’re training them to do it, just to get back at me for some grudge I’ve long forgotten.”

“You never forget anything.” Butler retorted, and Artemis shrugged slightly in acknowledgement. “Besides, I’ve got SIG Sauer’s that I’ve had since before you were born. I would certainly never encourage one of the agents I trained to lose their weapon in the field. Madame Ko would be turning in her grave.”

“Ah yes, the famous wisdom of Madame Ko. It’s been a while since I heard that name.” Artemis looked up in surprise to see 007 suddenly standing beside their table. Butler had clearly seen him approach as he only smiled at the new arrival. “Hello, B. Hello, Q.”

“Bond, long time no see. Join us, if you’d like.” Butler said, ignoring Artemis’ glare.

“Thank you.” Bond set down his cup, and proceeded to remove his coat and scarf. He was wearing a soft looking forest green jumper underneath. Artemis had never seen him look so casual. Bond noticed his glance.

“I finished my debrief yesterday, I’m on down time but get bored staring at the same four walls, so I come out here for some decent coffee.”

“I wish they did decent tea.” Artemis grumbled under his breath. Both Bond and Butler tried, unsuccessfully to hide their smirks. Artemis glared at them.

“So, still haven’t retired as training master, old man?” Bond said. “Still, you do look good for your age.” Butler was famous for shouting comments like ‘If I can do this approaching 60, you can do it at half my age!” No-one was ever quite sure how old B actually was, as he only looked about 45.

Artemis and Butler exchanged a knowing look, and quickly changed the subject.

“So, do you know where you’re heading next?” Butler asked. Bond shrugged.

“Q probably knows more than me.”

“Russia I think. I’m currently developing thermal underwear that also acts as a Geiger counter.”

Bond looked at Q, who gazed back blankly, giving no clue as to whether he was joking or not. (He was not – he only very rarely made jokes after all.)

“Anyway,” Artemis said, standing and putting his coat back on. “I should be getting back. Thanks for the lukewarm water trying to impersonate earl grey tea, But… er… B. I will see both of you again soon.”

Artemis was not quite out of earshot when Bond started to speak. “So, B. I had not realised you were close with our loveable Quartermaster.” Artemis grimaced, but carried on out of the coffee shop, not sure he could handle any more time with the two of them, too worried he would drop a hint that Bond would pick up on.

***

There were times when Artemis missed travelling the world and going on adventures. Then there were times when he saw what the Agents were experiencing through their tie pins or other pinhole cameras, and was glad he was able to stay in his nice warm office.

James Bond was in the Arctic Circle at the Northern most tip of Russia. He was currently trudging his way through a snow storm in search of the run down bar his contact was due to meet him in. Why the contact could not go to James’ warm hotel room was something Artemis had never quite understood. James had mocked him when he asked, telling him that Q would not last five minutes in the field. Whilst Artemis knew that this was not true, he did always feel better with Butler at his back, and it would be too difficult to explain to M why a field agent needed the company of the training master.

James hovered in the doorway of the bar, unable to see around the wall to check who was waiting inside. Artemis checked his screens.

“8 people, including the bar man. No concealed weapons that I can detect.” Artemis muttered, transmitting to the ear piece Bond was wearing. He proceeded into the bar.

“Vodka.” Bond demanded of the bar man in a surly ‘not in the mood for chit chat’ voice. He need not have worried – the bar man looked like a bear, with the same attitude, unlikely to engage in friendly barman banter. He poured Bond’s drink into a tumbler – no need for ice when the room temperature is still below zero.

Bond turned and scanned the room. A very short, very hairy man sat in one of the booths. He wiggled his eyebrows at Bond, and made a slight gesture with his head. 007 grabbed his drink having thrown a couple of notes onto the counter, and slid into the booth opposite the short man.

“Alright.” The man said. “Let’s be quick shall we, the Russian air doesn’t agree with me.”

James nodded, but did not speak.

“Quiet one, aren’t you. Okey dokey then. Here is the key you need.” He handed Bond a ‘key’ that looked suspiciously like it was home made out of a piece of wire. Bond put it carefully into his pocket “Still not sure why I couldn’t finish the job having got all the way in there, but that’s Art… Q for you.”

The camera suddenly changed height as Bond stood. He held a hand out to shake, and then left the bar.

“Not feeling chatty today, Bond?” Artemis asked, amused by the stoicism. He was used to Bond saying very little, but that had been odd, even for him.

“You should be glad these cameras don’t transmit smells. I didn’t want to open my mouth to taste what was going through my nose. That guy stank. He was also a little chirpy for my taste.”

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten the smell. Mulch is an old friend though. He gets the job done.”

“He’s a little strange looking.”

“Well, he’s an excellent kleptomaniac dwarf. His appearance doesn’t really come in to it.”

“True enough. Wait. Did you hear that?” Bond stopped his trudging, as they both strained to hear. A faint animal roar sounded again. “Was that a polar bear?” Bond whispered.

“Shush for a second, and stay very, very still.” Artemis knew that Bond could turn into a statue when required. He pulled up the sound being recorded from Bond’s microphone, and snipped the last 20 seconds. He put it into another piece of software, and increased the volume as much as possible. A horrible, reverberating roar filled his ears, a sound that he had not heard for nearly fifteen years.

“Bond, that is not a polar bear, that is something else, and you need to get out of there right now.”

The troll roared again, and then there was a crunching noise and the sound of people screaming.

“Whatever it is, it’s going into that bar.”

“Mulch!” Artemis exclaimed. “He can’t get away, the radiation is too high!”

Bond immediately started back in the other direction.

“No, Bond. What are you doing? Get out of there.”

“But you said….”

“I know what I said, but I’m not risking you too.”

“I’m sure I can handle some animal, Q. What do you think it is, a yeti?”

“No, just a bullet-proof bull-like creature that is ridiculously stupid, and even B got hurt when trying to take one on, and he was the first and last person to take one on successfully.” Artemis muttered as he pulled up a screen he was only supposed to use in emergencies.

He typed quickly, even though he was sure that Foaley was probably already aware of what was happening – he was sure that the eccentric centaur had screens in his office that mirrored exactly what was on his, just to keep an eye on him.

FOALEY. NEED HELP. TROLL LOOSE, MULCH STUCK IN MEETING SPOT. BOND ATTEMPTING TO ENGAGE. SEND CAPTAIN SHORT IN NOW.

 

***

Holly Short sat in her pod, unable to believe that she was back in Russia at the request of Artemis Fowl. She could feel her magic leaking through her skin as it tried to combat the radiation hanging in the air. Fortunately the pod was stopping most of it, and she should not be here for long. She folded her arms and put her feet up onto the console. Mudboy owed her big for this, asking her to escort the incorrigible Mulch to the surface to help steal back some MI6 documents. Root had encouraged her. Something about ‘maintaining positive relations with the mud men who watch over the world to stop nuclear threats and get rid of any threat to the people’. At least, Holly assumed that was what Root meant. His actual words had been a bit more… colourful.

Her earpiece suddenly crackled into life, and Foaley’s voice was on the other end, sounding panicked.

“Holly! Mulch is trapped in the bar about to get ravaged by a troll, and that mud man spy is going to try to take it on. He’s no Butler, and there are no suits of armor hanging around. That’s Artemis’ favourite agent! He won’t be happy if he’s killed by one of the People.”

Before Foaley had even finished speaking, Holly was attaching her weapons to her moon belt, then shrugged into a pair of wings.

“Got it, Foaley. Keep a look out in case anything else appears.”

“Ok, I’m going to patch you in to Artemis too.”

She left the pod and revved her wings. They were faster than ever these days, after Artemis had taken over Koboi laboratories and played around with fairy technology. It was a fair trade – many of the new MI6 weapons designed by Q had a basis in fairy technology, although none of the agents were aware of it.

Holly arrived at the bar a mere five minutes after Artemis had sent the message.

Her earpiece crackled again. “Holly, can you hear me?” Artemis’ tones were a lot more clipped and polished these days, a long way from the soft Irish lilt of his youth. Holly missed it, sometimes.

“Yes, Fowl. I’m at the bar. The troll is inside – I’m going in.”

“Can you see Bond? He took his camera and mic off after I kept yelling at him to leave.”

“Not yet.” She said, grimly. She stepped into the bar, flickering into invisibility. She froze at the sight ahead of her.

“D’arvit.” Artemis whispered softly. Foaley had patched through the video from Holly’s iris cam to Artemis’ screen.

Bond was on the floor, battered and bleeding, but moving, and about to get up for another round. His Walther was on the floor, obviously tossed away when it proved to be useless. The troll was also looking battered, small bullet holes oozing, but they had clearly not been any more successful than when Butler had tried to shoot a troll fifteen years ago.

The bear-like Barman strode out from behind the bar, wielding an axe. Holly flickered into visibility.

“No, stop!” She cried. The barman barely looked in her direction, but she was already invisible again. When he was within two feet of the troll, it raised an enormous arm and backhanded the barman, sending him crashing back over the bar, into the stack of bottles behind it.

“Bond, stay down.” 007 looked around in confusion at the sound of his name, but something in Holly’s tone kept him still. She fluttered invisibly to check the barman, and found that he was still alive, just knocked out. She pressed two stars of magic to his forehead, to ease his way back into consciousness. Holly took the opportunity of being behind the bar to pull out her Taser grenades, standard issue to the LEP after a few too many incidents with immune to magic trolls. She left the cover of the bar and flew up to the ceiling. When she was directly above the troll, she dropped two grenades. They attached to the troll’s thick fur, front and back, and started to spark. The troll immediately dropped to the ground, shaking, as thousands of volts passed through it.

“Holly, can you sort out Bond, please?”

“For goodness sake, Artemis. Give me a chance.” Holly dropped to the side of the agent, and moved into the visible spectrum.

“007. I’m Commander Holly Short. Artemis, I mean, Q, sent me to help you.” The large man looked at her in confusion.

“You’re so… small…” he breathed, clutching his ribs as his breathing became more laboured.

“Yes. It’s a genetic thing. Now, hold still, and you’ll be feeling all better in a jiffy.”

Bond held very still, but could not resist asking; “What are you going to do?”

“Magic.” Bond’s expression turned derisive, until he saw blue sparks flicker over her hands.

“Wow, I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” Bond said. He winced as Holly placed her small hands onto his chest.

‘Go on. Heal.’ Holly muttered to her magic. She could not use too much – she had to leave enough to keep her radiation free, but she had enough to get him well enough to travel home.

Bond slipped into sleep as the Sparks crossed his body. Artemis breathed a sigh of relief that James was no longer in pain. When Holly was finished, she sat back on her heels.

"He's going to be fine, Artemis."

"I know. Thank you, Holly."

"Foaley, you'll need to send a wizard team for memory wipes and to retrieve the troll."

"Already done, Holly. ETA two hours. They weren't happy about it."

"Funnily enough, Foaley..."

"You don't care, I know, I know." Foaley said in a long suffering voice.

"What about Bond?" Artemis asked. "I don't want his memory to be wiped."

"Artemis..." Holly said sternly.

"He's been getting curious. He's a double 0, so he won't give up until he knows. We will have to mind wipe him multiple times, and I'm not risking his brain being melted. I may as well tell him. It's not like we don't know he can keep a secret."

"You'll have to take it up with M and Root."

"Don't worry, I will."

“Well, I’ll get him back to you safe and sound, I suppose.” Holly shook her head, unable to believe that she was agreeing to yet another human knowing about the People.

“Thank you, Holly.” A beep sounded to indicate that Artemis had disconnected.

Mulch crawled out from behind an upturned table.

"I thought I was a gonner for sure. Thanks, Commander Short."

"Don't mention it, Mulch. It wasn't the first time I've saved your hide, and I doubt it will be the last. By the way... Any idea why a mountain troll just happened to be passing by and decided to wreck the bar you were conveniently sitting in?"

Mulch shrugged, trying to look innocent, and failing miserably. "Maybe I owed him money?"

***

Artemis peered through the glass in the door to the MI6 conference room and then ducked quickly out of the way. It might have been childish behaviour, unbecoming of the quartermaster of MI6, but he had been dreading this meeting for three days. Holly had returned Bond as promised, and he had spent the last two days in the medical centre. Artemis had been forbidden to speak to him until after this meeting.

“Q, stop lurking and get in here.” A loud voice yelled from inside the room. Artemis sighed, and opened the door. He walked slowly to the table and sat in one of the chairs at the side, carefully not looking at the people sat at either end.

A strong smell of herbal smoke wafted over him. Artemis looked up and glared. “You know, smoking has been illegal in work places since 2005.”

Julius Root glared back over the top of a large fungal cigar.

“If you want one, Q, you’ve only got to ask.” The man at the other end of the table said. Artemis glanced sharply in his direction.

“M, what are you doing! Major Root has the excuse of not being aware of our rules, but you have no such excuse.” M grinned at him around his own fungal cigar and pushed a highly polished wooden box towards Artemis, who shook his head.

“So, Fowl. What’s this about you persuading Commander Short not to mind wipe one of your agents?” Major Root had not changed much in the last fifteen years. He still wore his hair in a buzz cut, and his face still went beetroot coloured when annoyed. In fact, during the monthly meetings between M and Root, there was a betting pool about who would go the most red. There were even paint colour charts attached to the piece of paper detailing the shades and the odds. Artemis had won the pool three out of the last six times.

 “007 is one of Her Majesty’s top agents. I have instructions to use whatever I need to in order to save him. It just happened that Commander Holly Short was nearby, and so I made the executive decision to involve her in order to resolve the unexpected… situation that occurred.”

Root banged his hand on the table impatiently.

“That does not explain why you demanded that she not mind-wipe him.”

“Contrary to popular belief, James Bond is not as stupid as he likes to make out. He has been looking in to my file, and found the references to the fairy equivalent. Fortunately, he has not been able to track these down, but it is probably only a matter of time. Therefore, a mind wipe of the situation in Russia would not be sufficient. A much wider time frame would be required, which could cause irreparable brain damage. That is not ideal in a double-0.”

Root was getting redder with every word that Artemis spoke, but M nodded sagely.

“Your proposal, Q?”

“What? You can’t be thinking about going along with this?” Root yelled. Artemis made a mental note to go for ‘beet-root’ on the next pool.

“My dear friend.” M said to Root. “Do calm down. Have another cigar.” He pushed the box down the length of the table. “Let Q speak.”

Q nodded. “I tell him my story. I would trust Bond with my life. After all, he’s a double-0, it’s not as if we can’t trust him to keep a secret.”

“The existence of the People is a little more important than who murdered who in tiny mud people politics, Fowl.”

“We could of course take all of the usual precautions. A sound activated tracker imbued with fairy magic to instantly immobilise Bond if he tries to tell anyone about the People who does not already know. Fowley can keep track of him of course, and if he does not agree to this, then he will have to submit to a mind wipe of the last three days.”

Root was beginning to return to a more subtle puce colour. He touched his ear piece.

“Fowley, what do you think?” He listened for a few seconds, and then shrugged. “And I suppose you agree with Fowl too, Mallory?”

M nodded slightly, but made no further comment.

“Presumably we could have access to Bond’s particular skills if we needed them?” Root mused.

“MI6 is always happy to help the People in need, for a suitable exchange, of course.”

“Of course.” Root agreed, sarcastically. “Alright, Fowl. You win, as usual. Tell your buddy Bond your story. But if he puts one toe out of line…”

“Yes, Major. I understand.” Root narrowed his eyes at Artemis’ humble tone, but shook his head.

“You are dismissed, Q.” M said, finally. “Have one of your underlings prepare the standard paperwork, and then take Bond to the pub. He’ll take the news better if you ease the way with alcohol.”

“Yes, sir.” Artemis had learned the hard way what a dismissal sounded like. He stood and left the room as quickly as possible. An intelligent person never lingered in a room with M and Root, and no-one had ever accused Artemis of not being intelligent.

***

Artemis threw a dry cleaning bag onto the bed in the medical centre. James Bond had an arm covering his eyes, but he did not jump at the sudden intrusion.

“Come on, get up, we’re going to the pub.” James groaned softly.

“I lost a fight against a raging beast today, I think I deserve a night feeling sorry for myself in medical.”

“That fight was three days ago, you were healed right after, and you have done enough moping in medical. I know you have a lot of questions about that ‘raging beast’, and a number of other things you saw. I’ve been authorised to give you answers, and tell you the sections of my history not in my main file. But I can’t do it here. So you will have to get dressed.”

Bond sat up, eagerly. “I wondered what that mysterious paper work was all about. I’ve already signed the Official Secrets Act, what would need higher clearance then that?”

“Get dressed, and you’ll find out.” Bond pulled the covers aside and got quickly out of bed.

 

***

Bond lent against the bar, dressed in a charcoal three piece suit, with a white shirt left open at the next. Artemis was trying his hardest not to be distracted by that. He knew he looked like a child next to Bond, in his suit trousers and striped jumper, but tried hard not to seem intimidated.

“So, Q, what will you have to drink?” Bond asked, mildly, seemingly unaware of the scrutiny he was receiving from both Artemis and the entire female population in the pub.

“I don’t suppose they serve tea.” Artemis said, wistfully. “I’ll have a pint.” Bond looked at him in disdain, and then beckoned to the barman.

“Two vodka martinis, please. Dirty, shaken, not stirred.” The barman nodded, and Artemis was glad he had bought them to a pub in a nice part of London that also had a cocktail menu.

“If you’re drinking with me, you’ll have a proper drink.” Artemis rolled his eyes, but nodded in resignation. The bar man placed the two drinks in martini glasses on the bar in front of them, and Bond handed over some money.

“How are you supposed to drink out of one of those glasses without looking overly effeminate?” Artemis wondered, doubtfully.

“I manage.” Bond said, picking up his glass, and holding it out to Artemis expectantly. Artemis picked up his glass.

“To secrets revealed.” Bond said. They clinked their glasses together. Artemis went to take a mouthful of his Martini, but underestimated the difficulty of drinking out of a martini glass. Only a small amount made it into his mouth, the rest streamed down his jumper.

James guffawed, the loudest and most natural laugh Artemis had ever heard from his agent. He nearly laughed back, and then remembered his situation. He gently placed the glass down on the bar and glowered at it.

“I don’t know how you drink out of those, Bond. What’s wrong with a tea cup or a pint glass, that’s what I want to know?”

“We’re not in the prohibition era any more, Q. Don’t worry; I’ll find you a bib in time for the next round. I know you’re barely out of them as it is.”

Artemis spluttered. “Yes, well… at least I’m not so old that I actually went to a speakeasy and drank martini out of a tea cup in the prohibition.” Bond just grinned at his quartermaster, refusing to rise to the bait. He had magically (probably not actual magic of course) pulled a handkerchief from somewhere, and was dabbing gently at Q’s jumper.

“Anyway… I believe you had something to tell me?” Artemis instantly sobered, reminded of why they were here, and what it was he had to tell Bond. He thought about everything he had been to with the People, of Holly Short - his first proper friend. Of Mulch Diggums, Julius Root, and Fowley the Centaur. Was he betraying their trust in him by telling James the truth about his adventures? Even if he wasn’t, where should he start?

“Is it so hard to begin?” James murmured, softly.

Of course, Artemis thought. He should start at the beginning.

“Ho Chi Minh City in the summer. Sweltering by anyone’s standards. Needless to say, I would not have been willing to put up with such discomfort if something extremely important had not been at stake. Important to the plan…”

The End (or the beginning?)


End file.
